Why snowflake?
by dhalpin3
Summary: This is a hypothetical set of two self internalized conversations Illyana may have had with herself in answer to the question from Piotr as to why she let his possession by the powers of the Juggernaut happen. A bit more detailed exploration as to her inner motivations and drives. Updated based upon the story There are no snowflakes in hell


**Why Snowflake?**

Author's note: This is a hypothetical set of two self internalized conversations Illyana may have had with herself in answer to the question from Piotr as to why she let his possession by the powers of the Juggernaut happen. A bit more detailed exploration as to her inner motivations and drives.

This was the first Fan Fiction story I wrote.

I've updated this story based upon the enhancement's I've made to Snowflake on ice.

**Part 1: Awakening**

"_Snowflake?"_

I truly began with the word.

Duality of meaning. Affirmation, yet condemnation. Identity and rejection. Realization and loathing. A plea, but also an accusation of betrayal.

This was I, but I was not me (at least not yet). Was I something other then what I was? What I was made into? A choice frozen in the word, an identity with a side order of damnation.

_"Snowflake, can that be you"?_

"_Piotr?"_ Again a single word, a final hope realized. Identity accepted, damnation comprehended. I was, but I was not **Her**. I was _"that"_.

The I (Illyana Nikolievna Rasputina) was not me.

The I was Darkchilde. Newborn, alive but two limbo days (time is odd in limbo).

My/Her friends/companions from before did not understand what I was. Emma knew (as I had told her exactly what I was).

"_I am not Her, I am hurt and pain given form. I have the memories and experiences of Illyana, but I am not Her"_. Kitty somewhat understood, her avoidance/rejection/fear of me showed a wisdom that the others lacked (especially poor Piotr).

I had been not, and then I was.

He, Belasco, my Creator/Father/Betrayer brought me into being, not to be as I am, but to be as She was. However, She was gone, dead, no longer in these many realms and the spell used was the wrong summoning.

He had sought to summon the living Her from where She dwelt (somewhere in the mortal realms) or so he thought in his delusions of loss/pain/lust/love/power. If She had lived the spell would have brought Her, unless blocked by some greater power. However She was not alive (at least not yet). The spell should have failed except for one facet of the casting; the spell was invoked in a place of great power; in the heart of limbo, the former center of Her power and now the regained heart of his. That place remembered Her, it still resonated with remembered reflections of Her.

The spell worked in a way, but went very very wrong. This was limbo, filled with threads of power, filled with echoes of Her, reflections of Her interwoven with the very fabric of limbo. The spell found _something_, it pulled _something_ from limbo itself, and it pulled that which was to be me into existence. She was gone, but the Darkchilde was re-embodied with that which was pulled from the essence of limbo itself.

I was, I became, I opened my eyes. I was not yet fully realized with Her memories. All I was at that moment in time was confused. I was here (where was here?). I was me (what is that?). I lived (didn't I end me?).

I was new and I awoke to pain. The pain was not that of the summoning and embodiment, although that itself was agony; all early sensation is agony to one so made. No the pain was from the Father. Hatred and rejection, I was not Her, I was the anti Her. This was not what he wanted; he wanted that vision of purity to corrupt anew. To possess, to take, to use, to have… This was not Her, this was Darkchilde (which was an odd form of anti purity). Not corrupted, Pure demonic. A demon, one newly awoken.

My first experiences were of being punishment for being. Punishments newly learned yet horrifying ?how? familiar. Remembered glimpses of past agonies. Being a plaything for his demons and for him when he fancied the moment. Forced to do and to endure the doing, forced to accept despite all struggles. One word defines those times, "forced".

She had sworn never again but again was now and I experienced agonies anew. My first waking moments was one of torture and violation. All new and yet horrifying remembered. Things never mentioned or even hinted at by the prior Her to Kitty, Piotr, or any of her friends. At last he was done "expressing" his disapproval of my existence. But rather then destroy me he bound me and caste me out into the wilds of limbo to survived or die (a discarded unloved broken hated thing).

I was a demon. I did what demons do. I fought. I hunted. I feed. I hurt others. I fought to prevent hurt being done to me. I enslaved small groups of lesser demons, and then became briefly hunted by a more powerful demon (N'astirh).

He thought to use me, he thought I was weak. He found otherwise. After I bound him with enchantments and punishments (for sins attempted and prior crimes yet only vaguely remembered) I sought to make sense of my existence. This lead to my gathering of power (yet another blood stone to corrupt the universe with, Ah Father are you not proud how well your rejected daughter has learned her lessons) and the attempted forging of a soul sword (well a dagger should suffice) to slay Him and to release his bindings laid upon me.

It worked (as told in another story). I was free. Limbo was mine, power awaited. Mine for the taking and what was to prevent me? Then that word. "Snowflake?" I was not undone, I awoke. I truly realized what I was and what a prior I had been. I comprehended that I was what I hated most. I now just like Him. I was just like Belasco. I did as He did. I acted as He acted. I took, I hurt, I corrupted. I forced... I had done to Megan (Pixie) what Belasco had been done to Illyana. I had started to harm Megan's companions as Belasco had harmed Illyana's companions. And I had relished every moment.

I was a demon, this is what demons do. But now I remembered what it was to not be a demon, this realization was horror. I detested myself. I loathed what I had done. I realized what I was and was filled with disgust. All the while He was there, he, my brother (no not my brother, Her brother, my brother, Her's, mine, Her's, mine/Her's mine/Her's Mine/HEr's MineHEr'sMineHER'sMIneHER'S **MINEHER'S MINEHER'SMINEHER's MINHEMIHEMIHEMHEMHE MEMEMEMEMEMEMEMMEMEMEMEMEMMEM.**..).

_"Can that be you?"_ THAT_? "Illyana is this you"_? Is it? Is THIS me? _"NO"_ I wailed in disgust. That forgotten hope now but a burning wound of shame. _"Don't look at me! All of you just go way"!_

I summoned stepping disks and sent them home. Kitty, X-Men, these new mutants, others, and lastly Piotr, poor Piotr.

I screamed, raged, cried. I sought to reject what I was made into and set out to regain what I/She had been.

I needed a soul, I needed my soul.

**Part 2: Imprisonment**

I regained my Soul sword and then the remains of Her/my Soul (yet another story told elsewhere). I spent much time with Piotr, old (friends?) and with others. All either viewed/treated me as Her returned, or as something to hate and fear (which was much more sensible). The trust others had in me (still thinking I was Her, Illyana would never allow harm to befall us) was lost due to the actions taken to regain my Soul. I was locked up in the X-Brig due to my willingness to risk all of creation to regain my soul, to destroy the elder gods, and the harm to others and to my "friends" I was willing to allow in order to realize my plans.

I let Scott restrain me in an attempt to show Piotr/Kitty/Others that I was more Her than I had been before. I was unrepentant, but I regretted the harm that had to be done to achieve what I had to achieve; regret itself being a somewhat new experience in itself. Something that Danielle refused to understand no matter how many times she visited and hectored me; but I respected her for trying. Mostly it was just Danielle and Piotr who would visit (for understandable reasons most of my "friends" rarely came); except when they needed something (Heck you'd think Doug of all people could have remembered the different pronunciations of Hel vs. Hell). My soul (what remained of it) was mine and I wished only to regain a normal life.

So there I remained, strapped into a bomb jacket and surrounded by incarnations from Dr. Strange. I permitted this to continue as a sign of penance (easily circumvented if I had but wished it, but I desired to be more like Her and less like me). Looking back I suspect this isolation affected me more then I understood at the time. I was at the cusp of beginning to regain real humanity and isolation therapy was really not a good idea for one as disconnected as I.

My/Her "friends" no longer trusted me (with good reasons, kind of hard to retain good feeling for one who left all of her new mutant friends to be tortured and forced to kill to survive). I was me (and slowly was becoming more like Her, Darkchilde into Illyana). I was locked up, and I was bored. But Piotr refused to see me for what I was, what I had done, what I am. I was _"Snowflake"_. I was the past, I was a memory to him, I was not to be me I might become, I was to be what He wanted me to be. Every utterance of _"Snowflake"_ was like an accusation. Piotr loved Illyana, Piotr loved Snowflake. Piotr loved his image of what I was, not me. Piotr would never love me if he understood just what I was. He kept trying to understand me, to explain to others that they were wrong about me (they weren't). Piotr endlessly sacrificing for others, others who were not worthy of such sacrifice. Others like me.

Piotr could never understand me. He would never love me if knew what I was, what I thought, if he understood what I had done, what I had enjoyed doing. I'm not human. I'm a demon who has gained (or regained depending on your point of view) her humanity and a soul. It is a blessing for telepaths that I have a strong mind shield. Emma was quite shaken after just one look and I soundly spanked the Cuckoos (mentally) when they tried to take a peek _"no girls, you really don't want to see what's in here. Wish I could shut it out as well"_. I am not human with demonic influences; I am demonic with human influences. My mind is constantly filled with thoughts of inflicting pain, hurting others, doing harm, being harmed, torture, and other such deeds. It's kind of like living in a never ending horror movie (you learn to just ignore the screams and the blood and just get on with brushing your teeth). It's not pretty, it's not nice, it's me. I do not play at being bad, I am ruthless when I so wish. "_Quire would not even be a snack, assuming he did not go mad looking at what is inside my mind, maybe I'll show him sometime just to see what happens"_. The new mutants get it, Kitty gets it, and the others really get it, only Piotr does not get it.

When Utopia was attacked and Scott came up with the plan to strip Cain of the Juggernaut's power (I was rather impressed on how quick Scott was willing to attempt to impose additional damnation upon the damned by having me take the powers of the Juggernaut); he assigned Kitty and Piotr to babysit me on the dimensional trip so I'd toe the line (unnecessary but again I respected him for trying to come up with somebody that I might actually listen to or obey).

Piotr so wanted to understand me, well his being possessed with the power of the Juggernaut and the love of pain/destruction/death certainly showed him just what I am and what goes on inside my mind (regardless of my actual actions).

He learned what being a monster was, what it did to you, what it did to others, what it left you with, just what the love of causing pain/destruction/death felt like. And once he truly understood what I was he rejected me just as I always knew he would.

"_Why?"_ he asked?

Love was my answer. Piotr needed to stop endlessly sacrificing himself for others. He needed to understand what it was he claimed to love. He needed to stop wasting love upon those who do not deserve him. He needed to understand the price of needless sacrifice. Kitty said it well _"I don't need somebody to die for me; I need somebody to live for me"_. Lesson learned.

My love for my/Her bother is real, his love for me was not. It was love of Her not love of me.

**Part 3: Reflections upon the pasts**

Well, it made sense at the time.

I am not as I was.

My struggles with Dormmanu and his attempt to "end me" did something to me. I suspect that in part my soul was more forcefully integrated into my being; ever since that event I find myself filled with more regrets over my actions. More feelings overall. I miss my old friends and I really miss my brother. Working with Stephen is helping (I actually feel sorry for kicking his ass so badly in limbo, shame I can't really apologize to him about that as it has not happened to him yet).

Something else also happened during my struggles with Dormmanu. I went, well incandescent. His attempt to end me failed and I found myself transformed in part. Aflame with my powers at their fullest, something I had always avoided. He had tested himself against me and was found wanting, that in itself leaves me terrified at the implications. In that burning, in that perfect rage I not only was truly fused or infused with my soul, something else also burned away. That endless itch at the base of my mind, that constant denial I could ever be the me I sought for. That understanding that I could never be what I had been before. That phrase; **NOT HER, YOU ARE NOT HER **fell silent for the first time since... well ever.

Meeting Piotr from the future where he actually "accepted" me and called me snowflake knowing exactly what I am somehow made me feel different, actually loved for the very first time since I was came into being. I miss that. Kitty and I appear to be connecting at some level that was missing before. I hope I can figure out how to heal/fix things with Piotr, but I really screwed up.

I look back at the decisions I've made since being created and I'm not really seeing much sense in many of my actions. Something was off, not right. I have a growing suspicion that it was much more then just the loss of my soul. I now harbor dark fears that my mind was/is damaged, which leaves me not only questioning everything I've done, but any actions I might take in the future.

I had a choice once (pursue love or pursue my soul). I think I chose wrong. If I'd chosen love I suspect the regaining of my soul would have taken a different path.

I hope I make better choices going forward.

I hope I can see the better choices.


End file.
